Ukitake Jugorou
by Libra1996
Summary: In Which Harry Is Jushiro's Son By Way Of Potter's Luck And Unpredictable Illness Colliding And Leading To An Improbable Meeting Followed By An Even More Improbable Potions Accident. Because I Said So.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer** **: I don't quite get why these might be needed given it's Fanfiction but Just In Case, I don't own Harry Potter or Bleach, though I do claim the Idea that Harry is Jushiro's son, seeing as I've never seen it done before.**

 **Ukitake Jugorou**

In Which Harry Is Jushiro's Son By Way Of Potter's Luck And Unpredictable Illness Colliding And Leading To An Improbable Meeting Followed By An Even More Improbable Potions Accident. Because I Said So.

* * *

 **Prologue**

Lily Potter nee Evens, out grocery shopping for the week, in a quirk of fate that can only be Potter's Luck, finds Ukitake Jushiro, visiting the English Soul Society Avalon on a relations mission and the dim possibility of alternative treatment for his disease, caught in the midst of a sudden, very unexpected, flare-up. It had come on without any warning at all, leaving him suddenly leaning against a nearby wall, coughing painfully as he fought to control his breathing. When Lily asks if she could help get him to a hospital, Jushiro is initially surprised she can see him but refuses, saying hoarsely, ' _I'll be fine in minute, I just need to catch my breath, thank you.'._ But Lily, being a healer-in-training, hears the wet sound that starts to accompany his cough, and decides to take him home and attempt to treat him there. James Potter, Lily's husband, is suspicious at first, ' _He could be a death Eater, Lils! Or a sympathizer! He's got a sword for Merlin's Sake!-Oh calm down James, does he look like he's in any fit shape to do anything even if he was!?'_ , but as Jushiro's fit becomes worse and he starts to cough blood, James helps settle him in the guest bedroom at Godric's Hollow, where he and Lily have lived for the past six months since their marriage a month after Lily's twentieth birthday.

It's about this time that Jushiro learns that Lily and James are wizards, people who can manipulate magic, which is separate from but similar to reiatsu in that it can allow humans to affect their surroundings and at least peripherally see and sense spirits. He can also sense that they have a decent amount of reiryoku, which despite their magic, is what allowed them to see and touch him as any other human, rather than as a pale ghost, ' _Interesting.-What is?- Ah, the difference between Eastern and Western, I've never thought much on it before.-Now that you mention it-No, Lily, no theological debates over dinner, we agreed.-Fine...later then.-Over tea?-Oh Merlin, not another one.'_. Over the three days it took him to recover enough to leave bed he told them he was a captain of secretive, ' _Very secretive, unfortunately, a little bit more trust would go a long way, I feel.'_ military branch in Japan dedicated to hunting malevolent spirits as well as assisting benign ones in crossing over, and that he was here seeking treatment for his disease, but had been disappointed. He was on his way home, nearly about to open the senkaimon, though he didn't say that, _'I just missed my bus.'_ , when the attack struck.

While caring for him, the Potters told him about the war, ' _You don't know already?-Not much news, particularly foreign news unless you look specifically. Secretive, didn't I say?',_ and why James was so suspicious of him, how it seemed like they couldn't trust even their closest friends, ' _It's like they're everywhere!-It gets depressing.'_. Jushiro in turn confided that he felt like that about a few of his fellow captains lately and briefly shared the story of Urahara Kisuke's supposed betrayal and his suspicions that he was framed, but was unable to find any proof on who had done it, ' _I knew Kisuke, he was a mad genius, but he wouldn't' have played with power like that.'_.

As they spoke longer began to trust each other more, they started to talk about other things, like family and friends, too few of the former all of them, ' _I'm the last Potter, least 'til I convince my Lovely Lady Lily to make another with me!-Only my sister left, we don't get on these days, unfortunately.-Most of those within four degrees have gone on, ironically out of eight children, five brothers and two sisters, it's the sickly eldest that's lasted longest, but I enjoy visiting my many nieces and nephews, though I don't often have time.'_ but many of the later, ' _I sometimes go out with Selena, Alice, and Amelia, not as often with the war ,but...-Most of the guys in training are pretty good, of course Siri is still my best friend and Remy and Pete too, though they've drifted_ _apart some, these days.-Shunsui is, of course, my best and oldest friend, lazy drunkard that he is, but I like to think of most of captains and some of the lieutenants as friends, and I try to be on first name basis with all of my division.',_ strange or unique traditions, _'That's how I got my name actually, it means Fourteenth Son, and I am the fourteenth heir to the name Ukitake, my father was Jusanrou, thirteenth.-My family's like that, all daughters are named for a flower, comes from Da's side funnily enough, mum's name, Rose, is a coincidence.-No names, but since Potters have a tendency to die young they make a necklace that has the parents magic stored in it, so the child will always know the love they felt for them.-Morbid.-Hey you married me.',_ Jushiro's illness, ' _The little we've discovered of it suggests an autoimmune disorder, they thought it was Tuberculosis at first, but I'm not contagious._ ', James' Auror training, ' _Exhausting -CONSTANT VIGILANCE- all the damn bloody time!'_ , Lily's healer training, ' _Also exhausting, though not as prone to inducing heart-attacks funnily enough.'_ , and the important part, as regards the continuation of Potter's Luck at least, her potions mastery test that she was studying for.

"Really, it's the unusual restrictions of this one that are fascinating, more than its use or history. The Dead Man's Heir potion, as its name implies, uses something of a dead man's remains, and it does have to be from a man who is, at the time of collection, dead, usually blood, sometimes hair though it requires more, but best results come from semen." Lily explained enthusiastically.

" _Semen!?_ From a _dead guy!?_ How would they even-why-that's _disgusting!_ " James exclaimed, looking quite green at the thought.

"It also requires consent-proper _willing_ consent, not that pureblood _it's your duty to the Family_ consent-from not only the mother-to-be, which is already unusual, but also the man who- _donated_ -shall we say, given beforehand, though there's also record of a case of a ghost who gave consent after death that resulted in successful pregnancy." She continued, completely ignoring him.

"How does the potion know if they consent though?" Jushiro asks, enjoying Lily's passion at discussing something she obviously loves, despite his own mild disgust.

" _Oi!_ Are you just going to ignore that!?" James asks incredulously.

"How the potion registers consent is not fully known, though most theorize there's a kind of magical imprint the potion reads somehow. But that's not the strangest part; there are all kinds of potion that can determine intangible concepts like that." She answers, still ignoring him.

"Oh _really?_ A potion that uses a _dead man's semen_ and _that's_ not what's strange about it?" James mutters sarcastically, resigned.

"Dead Man's Heir also requires that the woman taking the potion have sex immediately after she takes it, which is why it has a mild- _very mild-_ lust component, it still requires _proper_ consent, and the man- _performing_ -let's put it, usually the husband, must accept that the child that results from this act, would primarily be the donor's Heir, though he can choose to adopt the child as his own, should he wish." Lily said, resolved to ignoring James.

James grunts lowly, and turns his face away, sulking.

Jushiro spares him a glance before focusing on Lily, "That does seem very- _involved_ -for something that was, presumably, invented for- _convenience-_ in the case of sudden, unexpected, death." he said, somewhat hesitantly.

"That's why it's not a popular option, despite its high success rate, too many purebloods rely on _it's for the Family_ consent instead of _I Want to_ consent, and it fell into obscurity. It's refreshing, actually, to work on something like this, despite the fact that it makes me want to tear my hair sometimes, it's so bloody complicated." She complained.

Jushiro hummed lightly and sipped at his tea, "If it wasn't so difficult, they likely wouldn't have made a master's test." He said calmly.

Lily sighed, slouching back into the sofa. James, who was still sulking lightly, softened some as she leaned against him, "I know. It's still frustrating."

"I imagine so. When will it be finished?" Jushiro replied.

"It needs to simmer for another day at least, so sometime tomorrow it will be ready for the next stage. By then you should be completely healed, maybe you could watch, if you like?" She asked, and kissed James' cheek, directing the question to him as well. He grumbled slightly, but kissed her back, so she counted that as a 'yes' and turned to Jushiro who sat in the large arm chair by the fire place smiling at them and nodded his assent.

"I'd like that."

Sure enough, the next day Jushiro was finally pronounced as healthy as Lily could make him, and his own assessment agreed, so he joined Lily and a still slightly reluctant- _sulky_ -James in the basement potions' lab.

"There's still a few minutes left before I take it off the fire and begin adding the rose petals, which are primarily what makes it a mild aphrodisiac, along with a few other non-reactive ingredients that help tie it all together, before it's finished. Anytime after that the donor's part can be added." Lily explained, mostly to Jushiro, as James was mostly there to watch Lily, and began to carefully remove the cauldron from the fire. She waited until all signs of any bubbles were gone before adding the petals, one by one.

She started to say, "After the rose petals, it's supposed to turn from the ugly brown-black it is now, to a sort-of clear sparkly gold-"

"Um-Lily, I hate to say, but-that doesn't look like gold sparkles to me." James said uneasily; looking at the suddenly frothing potion with trepidation. "It's not going to explode, it is? 'Cause I thought I left that behind at Hogwarts, and I really don't feel like a refresher course."

Lily rolled her eyes, "It's not going to explode, James, rose petals are entirely non-volatile, there's no way-"

Which, of course, is exactly when it did precisely that, drenching all three of them a nearly completed, though crucially changed, Dead Man's Heir potion, sweeping them up in a haze of lust that took the better part of two days to work its way out of their systems, leaving vague if pleasurable memories behind.

James was first to wake, " _Mild aphrodisiac_ my deliciously sore arse, I haven't had such long and thorough lovin' since that time in fifth year when Siri blew up that prototype infatuation draught he was making. That was a good night _and_ a good morning after, despite the embarrassment when we finally got back to the dorm."

Lily groaned and buried her head further into Jushiro's chest, "Shut up, and leave me to mourn my dignity in peace."

Jushiro chuckled softly, "Come now Lily, it's surely not so bad. At least you know where you are and who you're with; being friends with someone like Shunsui means I am unfortunately familiar with such circumstances. Though I admit, the way it happened was different, usually it's because Shunsui tricked me into drinking too much. Be glad we knew each other at least passingly well."

"Somehow, I get the feeling that your friend Shunsui would get on well with that hound dog my husband calls his best friend." Lily said wryly.

"Likely." He responded. "Now much as I enjoyed the last…however many days it was, I ask that further discussion wait until I've had at least a few hours of actual _rest_ instead of-"

"Orgasm induced stupor?" James asked innocently. Lily smacked the arm he had around her waist.

"Yes. Exactly." Jushiro said dryly.

"I agree. Sleep now, deal with consequences later." Lily said, proceeding to make herself more comfortable, tucking her head under Jushiro's and relaxing her body back into James'.

"Well, never let it be said that a Marauder didn't avoid the consequences for as long as he could." James said lightly, and followed his bed-mates to sleep.

The consequences, as they called them the night before, amounted to little more than reassurance that nobody held anything against anyone for actions done- _under the Influence_ -so to speak and that Lily had taken a preventive a week before, ' _War is no time to raise a child.'_ , though Jushiro said he would take responsibility should it come to that, ' _I've always wanted children, but refrained, for similar reasons.'_ , and James reassured also that he would have cared for it just the same, _'Imagine if they'd had red hair with a streak or two of white, I'd never beat all the perverts off!-My hair was naturally black, you know.-Ah, details, magic works in mysterious ways, it could happen.',_ before Jushiro finally said he had to go.

"I've been out of communication for nearly a week now; they'll start to get worried soon, if they're not already. Still I don't like leaving you without a way to contact me if needed." He said as he frowned worriedly.

"I promise Jushiro, nothing's going to happen, I took a preventive a week ago, and took another after we woke, just in case, I promise." Lily said exasperatedly.

"You also said the potion wouldn't explode, and we all remember how that went. In fact I can still feel it." James said cheerily.

"Oh hush, you. That was different. And have a little shame, will you?" She said heatedly, hit his chest.

"Can I help it that two days of near non-stop sex with a gorgeous woman, who happens to be my wife, and a very handsome man, who happens to be _prodigiously_ - _gifted_ -, has left me feeling _very_ good about myself indeed?" He asked without a hint of embarrassment.

Jushiro laughed, "Well, glad as I am that you enjoyed my- _prodigious gifts-_ , and I am truly, for I quite enjoyed myself, I'd still prefer if you had some way…Ah! I know. I told you, I think, of Urahara Kisuke-or rather Kisuke Urahara here-and that he's exiled?"

Lily looked at him curiously, "Yes, I remember. You said you believe he was framed for a horrendous crime and currently live on the run in exile. Why?"She asked, though she thought she could guess.

"Yes, exactly. I couldn't say where he is precisely except that he's in Japan somewhere, and is most likely at least in contact with Yoruichi Shihoin, Tessai Tsukabishi, and possibly some others, Lisa Yadomaru, Shinji Hirako, Rojuro Otoribashi, Mashiro Kuna, Love Aikawa, Hiyori Sarugaki, Hachigen Ushoda, and Kensei Muguruma." He said seriously, writing down the names in both English and Japanese on a piece of parchment. "If you need me, find him. Though I purposely don't look for him, I have no doubt that he keeps track of us, and I'm sure he can get a message to me if need be. And even if he can't, for whatever reason, he can help with any problems that might crop up."

James looked at him concerned, taking the parchment from his hand, "What sort of problems?"

Jushiro relaxed slightly, now that he was assured they could get help, even it was never needed, "Well, not _problems_ as such, it's just that the _magics_ I use, though they could _technically_ be learned be any one given enough time and determination, a certain inborn talent is required to truly excel, which does, more often than not run in the bloodlines, though there are some that just seem to pop up out of nowhere." He said calmly.

"Also, I don't boast when I say that despite my illness, I'm one of the strongest captains, particularly as it comes to reiryoku-the amount raw power I have, and reiatsu-my skill at manipulating it, any child of mine would very likely inherit at least some portion of that potential, and if left to their own devices, it could affect their surroundings." He explained, "I know one of our current captains, the youngest- Toushiro Hitsugaya-had to join the academy young because the sheer force of his reiryoku caused the temperature to change around him, which being strongly ice-oriented, caused problems for his grandmother."

"Now I still say that it won't come to this, but to satisfy you and my own curiosity, how likely is it that this would be a problem?" Lily asked resigned to Jushiro's need to be thorough.

Jushiro hummed, and thought for a moment, "Probably not to likely, still-"

" _Just in case._ " Lily and James joined in amused.

Jushiro laughed, " _Yes._ Just in case. Now, It's time for me to leave, before Shunsui, Kiyone, Sentarou, and Rukia tear down all of England in their search for me."

"Alright, be safe. And if you're ever in the area again, and feel like some- _fun_ -" James cut off with a grunt as Lily dug her elbow into his side.

She smiled, "It was a pleasure meeting you Jushiro, don't hesitate to stop by if you happen to come back someday, no need for more- _fun_ -."

"But what if he _does_ want another round or ten?" James whined.

Jushiro laughed even harder, "I promise if I'm ever sent to England again, I'll visit." He smiled wickedly at James and said, "We can discuss the possibility of more- _fun_ -then, how about that?"

James laughed, pulling a fuming Lily into his arms and agreed, "Alright, until next time then."

Lily smiled reluctantly, "Until next time." She said as Jushiro left the cottage, looking for an out of the way place to summon the senkaimon.

Nine months later, the Potters were _very_ grateful for Jushiro's insistence on _just in case_ , ' _Don't. Say it, James.-Say what? I wasn't going to say anything, honest!-Don't.',_ but were unfortunately forced into hiding shortly after the birth of their son, and then killed only a year later. Harry James Potter, or as he was called only by his parents and his sworn godfather, ' _Prongs you sly dog! Not only the Lovely Lady Lily, but this White Hot Asian Stud too!? You held out on me!-I'm not a dog Padfoot, that's you. I am a sexy Stag.-Both of you knock it off, you'll wake the baby.',_ Ukitake Jugorou-Jugo for short-, thought to be an orphan was left in the dubious custody of his maternal aunt and her husband, with the only one who could have said differently locked away in Azkaban without trial.

The only fail-safe the Potters devised for this was a very special locket, to be delivered by Gringotts on his first visit, that contained within it a blood-locked pocket that had everything they knew about Jushiro and all their efforts in finding Urahara Kisuke, little as it was, as well as all his true documentation which showed his true name. Solid platinum, engraved with a stag lying in a field of lilies with a tall curtain of bamboo in the background, set with a ruby charged with Lily's magic, a sapphire charged with James', and a pure green jade that the Potters filled with every last stray trace of Jushiro they could find. It's not much, but it's enough to give a lonely little boy a taste of what it might be, and filled his dreams of flying over stormy seas that whispered, ' _We love you so, so, much, Jugo'_.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Little Harry Potter, of Number 4 Privet Drive, was a strange child, with his pitch black hair that never lay flat and fey green eyes only slightly hidden by his bangs, and he was unfortunately aware of it. Now this was not because his aunt and uncle never missed an opportunity to tell him so. He tried not to put too much stock in what they said to him, ever since he was four-years-old and was told, harshly, with an accompanying cuff to the head, ' _Your father was a drunk and your mother a whore who died in a car crash, leaving us stuck with you! A worthless, ungrateful, waste-of-space, you should be glad we took you in, instead of leaving you in an orphanage to rot!'_ he knew, with heartbreaking clarity that his relatives _hated_ him, had _always_ hated him, and always would, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

So it was not because he believed what his relatives said, that he knew he was a freak, no. It was also not because strange things always seem to happen around him, like the time his teacher's hair turned blue when she was yelling at him for not turning in his homework, stolen by Dudley, not that anyone would believe it, for the eighth time in two weeks. He had nothing to do with that, surely. Nor was it the fact that lately, if he was very upset, even if the skies had been clear and cloudless, a storm would start to brew overhead, that was obviously coincidence.

Harry knew he was a freak, because Harry could see _ghosts_.

Now Harry did not actually realize that he saw ghosts right off the bat. For one, the first time that he clearly remembers seeing one was during recess on his first day of kindergarten, incidentally also the first time he could remember leaving Privet Drive, and the little girl sitting by a tree at the far end of the playground did not look any different than any of the other kids running around, except that she seemed to have chain attached to her chest. At the time Harry did not know if this was strange, as the only other people he had been exposed before this to were his relatives, and before he could think to ask, Dudley and his new friends decided to invent 'Harry Hunting', leaving him too busy running for his life to worry about the girl with a chain on her chest.

After that, as the Dursleys allowed him slightly more freedom, every once in a while he would see other people with chains coming from their chests while walking, or more often running home, as Dudley and his friends played their favorite game, or on the way to and from the grocery store on errands for Aunt Petunia. But it wasn't until a year later that he finally had the opportunity, and the courage, to ask the little girl by the tree why she had a chain coming from her chest, and also why he never saw her in class if she had the same recess as him.

"You can _see_ me!? Nobody's ever seen me before!" The girl exclaimed.

Now Harry was confused. While it was true he'd never noticed her playing with anyone, he'd thought that she was just shy, or maybe that, like him, nobody wanted to play with her, that having been half reason he'd gathered the courage to approach her in the first place.

"Of course I can see you; you're always over here sitting under the tree." He said. "If you're trying to hide, you should at least sit behind it."

"I'm not hiding, silly! I don't have to, 'cause I'm a _ghost_! Nobody's ever seen me, or heard me, or felt me since I fell from the tree! Not even my parents!" She said excitedly.

Harry frowned and looked at her closer. "You don't _look_ like a ghost, you're not even see-through. The only strange thing about you is your chain!" He said skeptically.

"Oi! Potty! Who're you talking to?" yelled Piers Polkiss, one of Dudley's gang, and the meanest besides Dudley himself. He turned back to Dudley, "Hey, Big D, looks like Potty's got an imaginary friend!" He jeered.

"What are you talking about, Polkiss. I'm talking to the girl right in front of me." Harry said tensely, readying himself to run in case this turned into another round of Hunting.

"Oh, so it's an imaginary _girlfriend_ then? Did she give you an imaginary _kiss_?" Dudley laughed, before announcing, "I think Potty here has too much time on his hands, boys, what do you think? Should we invite him to _play_?"

Harry needed no more warning that this and immediately took off running, setting the question of whether the girl was really a ghost or not to the side to be contemplated later. Later, it turned out, was that night when his uncle locked him in his cupboard after Dudley told his parents about Harry talking to imaginary girls. Needless to say, after that Harry was much more cautious whenever he tried to talk to anyone that had a Death Chain, as he decided to call them, after he was finally convinced that they really were ghosts, and made sure nobody _living_ was around to see.

So yes, Harry knew he was strange, but this took the cake.

"Yer a Wizard, Harry!" Said the giant that broke down the door of the little shack Uncle Vernon had taken them to in an attempt to outrun the letters that seemed to follow them everywhere.

In hindsight, the talking snake really should've been a clue.

* * *

Harry trotted along behind Hagrid, as the giant said to call him, hiding slightly, deeply unsettled by the commotion caused by his new found fame as well as the knowledge of his parents true death, he found himself wishing for another set of eyes so as not to miss a thing about this strange new world he found himself thrown into. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be something he'd only seen in stories, and many more he couldn't even describe, ' _Flying Broomsticks!? You can really fly on broomsticks!?-O'course ye can. Ye'll be havin' flyin' lessons at Hogwarts.-What's an Orga-_ _ **Best**_ _wait 'til yer older ta explain that, Harry.'._ Soon enough though, they came to a tall crooked building made of white marble and guarded by short, vaguely green beings he'd never seen before.

"This is Gringotts' Bank, Harry. It's run by the goblins, clever creatures; don't ever wanna be on their bad side. There's no safer fer place somethin' than Gringotts, less it be at Hogwarts o'course." Hagrid said as they approached one of the tellers.

Hagrid cleared his throat, interrupting the teller from his inspection of what looked to be a ruby as big as Harry's fist.

" _Yes_?" the goblin asked, visibly irritated.

"Harry Potter, here fer 'is trust vault." Hagrid said, seemingly oblivious to the goblin's displeasure.

"And does Heir Potter have Proof of Identity?" the goblin asked.

Harry blinked. _'Heir? Of what?'_ He thought, confused.

Hagrid rummaged around in the many pockets of his coat for a moment. "Jus' a mo', got it here somewhere… 'ere! Got his Key." He said as he gave the teller a small gold key.

The goblin took the key and examined it for a moment. "While this is the key to the Potter Trust Vault, Lord James and his Lady Wife Lily left in Gringotts' keeping a package to be delivered to their Son and Heir upon confirmation of his Identity on his first visit after the age of ten in the event that he was not raised by either one of is surviving parents or godparents, which he was not." He explained with deliberate patience. "So I ask again, does Heir Potter have Proof of Identity?"

"Er…" Hagrid stammered, "I don'…"

Harry spoke up then, "I hadn't even known I had a Vault here before today, or about being Heir to anything, so I don't know how I should provide proof…" He trailed off, a horrible thought suddenly coming to him that maybe Hagrid _did_ have the wrong boy, after all Harry Potter was a common name, there could be dozens of boys with black hair and green eyes with that name.

The goblin looked at him for the first time and hummed. "For a small fee of two sickles and a drop of blood, Gringotts can provide a certified Proof of Identity. However, while I am qualified to administer the test here, the Lord and Lady Potter specified that the package be delivered to their Son alone, so this test will have to be done by the Potter Account Manager in private." He explained, looking at Harry piercingly.

"I-I don't have-" Harry started.

Hagrid put two sickles on the counter. "'S okay, Harry, I'll pay fer it. I reckon if yer parents left it with Gringotts, it mus' be important. I got business fer Dumbledore anyway, I'll go do that an' wait fer ya out 'ere, eh?" He said, patting Harry on the shoulder, almost sending him to the ground.

Harry beamed and said, with breathless happiness, " _Thank_ you, _so_ much Hagrid, I'll pay you back later, I promise!"

"Nonsense Harry, 's only two sickles, don't worry none 'bout it." Hagrid smiled back at him, glad to see him so happy.

"Master Potter, if you will follow Griphook he will take you to Senior Account Manager Sharpfang, who will administer your Blood Test." The goblin said, taking the two sickles and made a note on something before gesturing to another goblin who just stepped from behind the counter.

"Follow me." Griphook said gruffly, turning away without pause.

Harry gave a brief wave to Hagrid before hurrying after the swiftly moving goblin through a long corridor that twisted and turned like a maze. After a few minutes of desperately following Griphook, because he was sure he'd never find his way out if he got lost; they came to a door with a plaque that read ' _Senior Account Manager Sharpfang'_.

Griphook knocked on the door announcing, "Master Potter here to be tested for Proof of Identity."

"Come in." A low growling voice said.

"Go on, I will be here to lead you out once you are finished." Griphook said with the air of someone who had said the same thing a thousand times before.

Harry gulped nervously, and entered the room. It was a large office, perhaps the size of the Dursley's living room, and decorated with all kinds of weapons on the walls. Two large bookcases sat behind an even larger desk, at which a very fierce looking goblin, more so even than the others he's seen, was seated. At the goblins gesture, Harry sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"You are here for a Blood Test to give Proof of Identity that you are the Son and Heir of the Late Lord James and his Lady Wife Lily?" he asked as he looked up from some paperwork he had been studying.

"I-I-uh-yes, Sir." Harry said nervously, clenching is hands to stop them from trembling.

Sharpfang looked at him skeptically, and Harry felt the being could read his every thought right out of his head. "Very well. If you would nick your finger and allow a drop of blood to fall on the parchment, please, it will provide a Gringotts certified Proof of Identity that includes your birth name, any adopted names, as well as any noble Houses, Clans, or Families you may be a member of, and your rank within them, your blood parents and any of their titles, and your sworn godparents and or adopted parents and their titles." He explained briskly as he pulled out an ornate silver dagger and a fine piece of parchment, handing the dagger to Harry and laying the parchment on the desk in front of him.

Harry swallowed thickly, before quickly nicking the pad of his thumb and allowing a drop of blood to fall to the parchment. To his amazement, as soon as the dagger left his skin, the residue on both it and his thumb vanished leaving only a rapidly fading pink scar on his thumb to mark that he'd been hurt at all. As the blood was absorbed into the parchment, words and strange symbols he'd never seen began to form on it.

 **Gringotts Certified Proof Of Identity**

Name: 浮竹 十五郎 (trans. lit. Ukitake Jugorou)(trans. eng. Jugorou Ukitake)

Adopted: Harry James Potter

Titles: 浮竹家の推定第十五の相続人 (trans. lit. Ukitake-ke no Suitei Daijugo no Sozokujin)(trans. eng. 15th Heir Presumptive of the Ukitake Clan) by Rite of Blood

Adopted: 31st Heir Apparent to the Honorable and Noble House of Potter by Rite of Magik

Adopted: 43rd Heir Presumptive to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black by Rite of Magik

Father: 浮竹 十四郎 (trans. lit. Ukitake Jushiro)( trans. eng. Jushiro Ukitake)

Titles: 護廷十三隊の十三番隊の隊長 (trans. lit. Goteijusantai no Jusanbantai no Taicho)(trans. eng. Captain of the Thirteenth Division of the Thirteen Imperial Guards)

浮竹家の第十四の主君 (trans. lit. Ukitake-ke no Daijuyon no Shukun)(trans. eng. 14th Lord of the Ukitake Clan)

Mother: Lily Marie Evans –married- Potter

Titles: 30th Lady Wife of the Honorable and Noble House of Potter

2nd Degree Spellcrafter

4th Degree Mistress of Potions

Apprentice Healer

Sworn Godfather: Sirius Orion Black

Titles: 42nd Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black

3rd Degree Master of Battle Magiks

5th Degree Master of Transfiguration

Sworn Godmother: N/A

Adopted Father: James Charlus Potter

Titles: 30th Lord of the Honorable and Noble House of Potter

3rd Degree Master of Transfiguration

3rd Degree Master of Battle Magiks

Adopted Mother: N/A

This certificate was made and confirmed on the 1st of August the Year 1991 of the Christian Calendar

Administered by:

Senior Account Manager Sharpfang of Gringotts, Diagon Alley

For a while all Harry could do was read through it over and over, attempting to process the information written on the parchment and incorporate it into his already shaken world view. Finally he looked up to the goblin behind the desk, waiting surprisingly patiently, and attempted to speak.

After a few tries, he got out, "I'm adopted?".

"I assure you Young Master; everything written on that parchment is 100% truth. May I presume that it does indeed confirm your status as the Son and Heir of the Late Lord and Lady Potter?" He asked politely.

Harry stared for a moment, still slightly disbelieving, though grateful this goblin seemed more polite than the one who guided him here.

Finally he said, "I-It says I'm the adopted Heir Apparent, but-"

Sharpfang interrupted him, "If the parchment named you Heir Apparent, then you are the confirmed Son and Heir of the Potter House, and therefore the recipient of the package left to me by your late parents in the event of their untimely death and custody of you being given to somebody outside a list of approved caretakers." He stood and went to a painting depicting a bloody battlefield that apparently hid a safe. Sharpfang opened the safe and pulled out a metal chest about the size and shape of a shoebox and pushed it over the desk towards Harry. "There was a note made that the contents of the package should be known only to you, the confirmed Son and Heir, or someone to whom you would unhesitatingly trust your very life with. If you wish, as I have no other appointments, you may use this office to examine it. As the Potter Account Manager, I am sworn to keep confidentiality. Nothing I may learn will pass my lips without explicit permission." He said before pointedly returning to his work.

Harry thanked him hesitantly and opened the chest. Right on top, he saw a letter addressed to ' _Our Beloved Son Jugo_ ', which he assumed, by what the Identity parchment said, was him. Right beside it was a velvet box, like the kind some of Aunt Petunia's more expensive jewelry comes in, that he set aside for the moment in favor of reading his parents' _?'_ letter in hopes of answers.

 _To Our Beloved Son Jugo,_

 _If you're reading this letter Jugo, it means something, somewhere went terribly wrong with our plans, and not only have we died but your Godfather Sirius, and the only one we would truly trust with your safety in these dark times, has also likely perished too early to tell you in person. This means that our most treasured secret, that of your birth, and all the events leading up to it, have been lost, for we trusted no other with this information, even, though with great regret for its necessity, obliviating the midwife who helped deliver you._

 _Please don't misunderstand us Jugo. We love you so, so much. More than words can describe. We are not ashamed of you in any way, for though unexpected-_ _ **very**_ _unexpected-the act which begot you was full of love and newfound friendship. But these are dark times, and it seems there's a dagger around every corner, just waiting for the opportunity to strike. We couldn't bare if something were to happen to you and though we make plans to leave England and this Blood War, as it's being called, behind, the very fact that you're reading this means we've not succeeded, nor, likely, has Sirius been able to leave with you either._

 _Though we are fairly confident in our plans and the protections we've put in place to keep you safe until we are able to leave, your very birth, unexpected and against all reason as it was, taught us that it is always wise to plan for_ _ **just in case**_ _, even if we believe we'll never need it. Better safe, than sorry. Thus, the secure Gringotts Chest that this letter was deposited in, along with everything else that might be important._

 _Now, to have received the chest in the first place you will have had to have done a Blood Test to provide Proof of Identity, and being as this letter proves we did not live long enough tell you ourselves, you are likely very confused about your name and adoption. Especially since, if you've seen any pictures of us, you know that you look just like James when he was younger. It's a not a long story, but it will still take a little time to explain completely. I'll let James start._

 _Firstly, as you likely already guessed, you are not, by Blood, my own son._ _ **However**_ _, this does_ _ **not**_ _mean that you are any less my son than if you had been of my own loins. I love you more than I need air to breath. From the moment I learned of your mother's pregnancy I knew it was just as possible that you were Jushiro's, your Blood father-Otou-san as we've been calling him-as it was that you were mine. I also knew just as surely that whatever the case; I would love you just the same. As I held you for the first time in my arms, I looked into your eyes, gazing at me so unconditionally trusting, I knew there was nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe. You are my son and I love you_ _ **so**_ _much. I adopted you in a Rite of Magik, naming you my Son in every way that mattered and making you Heir to my House. This is the reason you have the so-called Potter Hair, untamable and messy, and how we were able to anchor a Blood Glamour to you to make anyone not in the know think whatever features you got from your Otou-san look like mine. You'll probably see something different next time you look in the mirror. Except the hair, I'm afraid you're stuck with that._

 _Still, you'd probably like to know who you're father is, if not me, and how exactly he came to conceive you with a happily married woman like your mother. That's more her story than mine though, so I'll let her tell it._

 _I'll start by saying again, I love you_ _ **so**_ _much, my son. Like James said I love you more than I need air. Also I love your Dad James dearly, though he was a right prat for most of our school years-_ _Oi!_ _-you were and you know it James! Still he did grow up in the end, I love the man he's become very much. So be assured that it wasn't due to any sort of falling out between us that lead Jushiro to my-well, our-bed. Despite the circumstances, we all of us-Jushiro, James, and I-participated willingly._

 _You're stalling. What your Potions Mistress of a mother isn't saying is, it was all due to a potions accident. James! It's true! Not that I think it was a bad accident, I for one **really** enjoyed it, Jushiro did too, he said, and your mother did also, she's just to embarrassed about having messed up- **urk-**_

 _Yes, it was due to a potions accident, and yes, I did enjoy the results, all of them, no matter that none of it makes any since-I still maintain that there was absolutely no reason it should have exploded, and even less that it should have negated my preventive potions-_

 _But that's not the point. The point is, don't be worried about it having been an unwilling thing for any of us. James especially would have liked a repeat, and asked for one as well._

 _Now, how did it get to that point? It started when I found a man with long, stark white hair-_ _sexy hair_ _-Shut up, James!-all but collapsed against a wall on my way home from the store, seemingly trying to eject his lungs, so harshly he was coughing. Now these are dark times, and despite his obvious sickness I could feel that this man was powerful, likely dangerous even, but I'm still a healer and I take my oaths as one very seriously, so I offered to help him to the hospital. Stubborn man refused, coughing all the while, and tried to convince me that he would be fine in a minute, as if I couldn't hear the sickening wet sound that said he wouldn't last ten minutes before he collapsed. So I took him home._

 _We were home in barely five minutes, and he was already all but unconscious against my shoulder and coughing blood, proving me right that he would have passed out right there in the street had I left him._

 _I would like to interject, that I was properly suspicious of the strange Asian man my lovely wife brought home, but was over ruled due to proper fea-_ _ **respect**_ _-of said lovely wife. Not that I regret it._

 _Thank you, James. So as Jushiro, stubborn man that he is, refused to go to the hospital, I decided to take care of him. And as he was recovering, we got to know each other fairly well, enough to say we were good friends even. So when Jushiro was fully recovered, and the potion I was practicing for my master's test was nearly done at the same time, I invited him to stay at least long enough to watch me finish it._

 _This is where the accident happened. She said it only had a mild aphrodisiac- Ah, um, something that helps adults_ _ **get in the mood**_ _, so to say- and that there was no way it would explode when it started frothing like a mad dog, but guess what! Neither or those were true! We woke about two days later with some foggy but_ _ **very**_ _happy memories._

 _Sometimes, I don't know why I put up with you James. Anyway as your dad said, we woke two days later and after some rest, spoke about possible consequences. Thankfully there were no hard feelings about the accident and what it caused us to do, Jushiro was very understanding, and James of course wouldn't have minded if it had happened again-_ _Damn right! Your Otou-san was a wonder among men Jugo! And I tell you, Red on White was_ _ **hot!-gak!**_ _-_ _as I said._

 _As for others matters, namely the possibility that I could become pregnant and that the child would be his-_ _Which you are._ _-Jushiro was a very honorable man and said he would take responsibly if it were needed. I told him it wouldn't be, that I took a preventative potion just the week before, and another soon after we woke just to be safe, but he insisted that we needed a way to reach him_ _ **just in case**_ _.-_ _Boy are we ever glad for it to, I bet he'd have laughed at us._ _-Yes, he probably would have._

 _Unfortunately, Jushiro works for a very secretive military service and couldn't give us a direct way to contact him, but he did give us the name of someone who could if we needed to-one Urahara Kisuke-who is somewhere in Japan, where your Otou-san is from. He also said that should you start showing any signs of the talents unique to his line that Urahara could help you. One of these signs is apparently unconsciously affecting your surroundings in some way, his example was a boy who could lower the temperature, but I wish now I had asked for more so I could tell you what to look for, but, well, no use crying over spilt milk._

 _The Gringotts Chest is on loan, paid for the span of your life, long may it be, after which it will be returned, and is as secure as a vault. James and I have put anything we could think of that we might have wanted to give you. There's a journal we put together that contains all the memories we have of Jushiro-minus the events after the accident of course-and all the pictures, little though they are. All of our efforts towards finding Urahara Kisuke or any of the others on the list he gave us will be copied and stored in it as well. At the time of writing this, August 3_ _rd_ _1982, three days after your first birthday, we haven't found much, but we hope to have more by the time we get ready to leave for Japan before your second one. There are a few more miscellaneous things James and I have added as the thought strikes, school journals and other things, and we will likely add even more later. But most importantly there should be a platinum locket engraved with a stag lying in a field of lilies and bamboo in the background, and set with a ruby, a sapphire, and a piece of jade._

 _The jewels it's set with are very special, my son. See the Potters are a warrior family, and as warriors we are often unfortunately short lived. So a tradition was started that our parents would commission a necklace or a bracelet of some sort on our birth to be set with jewels from each parent that was charged with their magic, and so contained a piece of them that their child could always feel and know, without doubt, that they were loved._

 _The ruby is from your mother, for her red hair, the sapphire is mine for the color of my eyes, and the jade is for your Otou-san, the color of his eyes. The jade doesn't contain much, by the time your mother found out she was pregnant, it had been nearly two months and only the barest traces of his power was left lingering in the house. Still we tried to extract as much as we could, to give you at least a taste of the man your Blood father was._

 _The locket is not scheduled to be finished until sometime in December, and is to be delivered to Gringotts to be put in the chest should we not live long enough to pick it up. It should have a picture of all three of us, taken just before he left, on one side and an inscription on the other. It is supposed to have an intent based Blood Lock. This means only you can open it, and only when you want it to. Also after you put it on , it can only be removed by your own hands and will, so don't worry about someone stealing it._

 _There's so much more I want to tell, my son, that I want to write down here in case I never get the chance to say it. I want to tell you to eat your vegetables and not to be picky. I want to tell you to go to bed at a decent hour, to work hard in school, and to remember to have fun. I want to tell you that the best sorts of friends are the ones who will tell you when you're wrong, but will always have your back anyway. I want to say it doesn't matter who you love, as long as they make you happy and take care of you. A thousand little things I can think of now, and a million more that I wouldn't until you needed it._

 _But most of all Jugo, I want to tell you that I love you. I want to say it every morning you wake up for breakfast, and every night before you go to bed, everyday for the rest of your life. My Beloved Son, the Light of my life, I will love you from now until the stars go out, and then I will love you still._

 _All Our Love,_

 _Mum and Dad_

There were tears streaming down his face, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to be bothered. With great care, he folded his parent's letter back into the envelope and immediately opened the velvet box that held the locket. It was about two inches long and in inch wide, beautiful platinum silver, and the engravings were obliviously done by a master. The ruby was set into one of the lilies, the sapphire in the stag's single open eye, and the jade in one of the bamboo leaves, highlighting the engravings.

He felt it as soon as his hand touched the metal, it felt like coming inside after all day in the snow, like the gentle touch of the warm spring wind, like refreshing autumn rain after the harsh summer sun. It felt like a mother's loving hug, like a dad's proud hand on your shoulder, and distantly, something that felt like a kind smile, warm eyes, and a steady, comforting presence, vast as the sea.

As he clutched the locket to his chest, at the very edge of hearing, he thought he could hear wind howling through the sky, the distant echo of thunder after lightning, and waves crashing upon the shore. They whispered to him, saying, over and over without pause, ' _We love you Jugo, so, so, much'._

Harry didn't think his tears would stop any time soon.

* * *

Perhaps half an hour later, when he finally got control of his tears, Harry wiped his face clean with his sleeve and slipped his locket over head. The chain was just long enough that the locket itself rested right over his heart and the jewels containing his parents' magic beating soothingly to his heart beat, a constant reminder of their love.

Willing for the locket to open, he heard a small click as the latch popped. Looking inside he saw on the right side a picture filling the whole locket, cut to shape, with three very different people. On the left was a tall man, slightly tanned, with messy black hair and bright blue eyes, his face sporting a seemingly perpetual cocky grin. Next in the middle, a beautiful red-headed woman with milky white skin and shining emerald green eyes, her smile was confident, like she could take on the world and wanted everyone to know. And last on the right, another man, even taller the first by a good three inches, his hair was white as snow contrasting pitch black eyebrows that lay above warm jade green eyes; his skin was pale with recovering sickness but his strength was still palpable in his stance and his smile was kind and welcoming.

Tearing his eyes way from the picture for the moment, he looked to the left side and read the inscription. ' _For Our Most Beloved Son Jugo, The Light of Our Life, Our Dearest Treasure, That He May Always Know Our Love For Him.'_ The tears threatened to start again, so he decided it would be best to pack up the chest and leave the rest of it for another day. He closed the locket, tucking under his shirt, and then returned the letter to the chest before closing that too.

The sound of the lock clicking back into place brought Sharpfang back from what he was working on, politely ignoring the boy tears, quiet though they'd been. He cleared his throat, "Are you finished, Heir Potter?" He asked.

Harry breathed deeply for a moment and replied, "Yes, sir. I think I'd best leave the rest for when I've had a chance to process this. Thank you, for allowing use of your office."

"You are welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you today?" Sharpfang asked.

"Ah, I need to make a withdrawal for school supplies, please, sir." Harry said politely.

The goblin hummed, "If I may make a suggestion," he waited moment for Harry to nod, "As owner of an account, or accounts as it maybe, consisting of over 100,000 galleons, you are entitled to request a the loan of Gringotts wallet that is linked to your account, allowing you to withdraw what you need in any currency without visiting your vault. The wallet also has many anti-theft features that will protect it from unauthorized use. Might you be interested?"

Harry thought about it, it sounded like a debit card to him, which would be useful, especially if he could take out normal money, he might finally get some decent clothes. But, "What do you mean by loan, and how much would it cost? And how much do I even have in my account, you said more than 100,000 galleons. That sounds like a lot but I don't know what anything costs here yet." he asked.

Sharpfang grinned approvingly, it was somewhat terrifying. He proceeded to briefly explain that the Potter Accounts had three vaults attached, of which Harry could only access the trust vault consisting of 150,000 galleons-roughly equivalent to £600,000, that was topped off annually, with the Family vault and the Artifact vault being held and managed in trust by Sharpfang until Harry's 15th birthday or his emancipation, the same holding true for the Black vaults.

The Gringotts wallet cost an initial fee of 50 galleons to tie to the account and took a further fee of 2% of each withdrawal. The loan was a reference to the goblin belief that all things made by a craftsman, wither or not it was commissioned, belonged to the craftsman or their kin and was only being bought for the lifetime of the buyer, after which it would have to be bought again if the family wished to keep it.

Harry decided that the extra security and convenience would be worth it, and was promptly handed a black wallet, abou inches, with Gringotts printed in gold script in the lower right corner. He was handed the silver dagger again and told to nick his thumb and press it to the upper left corner to key the wallet to his magic, activating the account and the security measures. As he did so, his blood flashed a brilliant, emerald green, and took the shape of a bolt of lightning like his scar.

With his business complete, Harry thanked Sharpfang for his help and left the office, turning to follow Griphook, who took off without a word, back into the maze of corridors. He saw Hagrid standing near the entry way and waved.

Hagrid grinned at him, "There ye are! Everythin' alright then Harry?" he asked, concerned by the lingering traces of tears on the boy's face.

Harry's breath hitched for a second, as he clutched the locket under his shirt, before he smiled brightly.

"Yeah, I'm _great_!" He said, tears nearly threatening to fall once more.

Hagrid looked closely, then smiled just as brightly and said, "Alright then, let's get to shoppin' fer yer school supplies, eh?"

Harry nodded and followed Hagrid back out into Diagon Alley.

* * *

Harry followed along by Hagrid as they walked down the Alley towards Ollivander's wand shop, marveling at how well his new clothes fit. His shirt was a plain green polo that was tucked into his new dark tan slacks, a new black belt around his waist, and he had new shoes, a pair of sturdy black boots. He was thankful Madam Malkin's had a small line of normal clothes; this way he didn't have to think of a way past the Dursleys just to get clothes that fit, instead of Dudley's castoffs.

He had also instantly fallen in love with the gorgeous snowy owl Hagrid bought for his birthday, despite Harry saying that it was more than enough that he had covered the fee for his Blood Test, Hagrid insisted that had not been a proper gift. Currently the owl was sleeping, head under wing, in her cage which Hagrid was kind enough to carry for him.

As they walked into Ollivander's, Harry felt a strange sort of weight settle on his shoulders, and a feeling akin to anticipation licked up his spine. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Ah, yes, Young Master _Potter_. I'd wondered if I would be seeing you." Said a strange old man with wispy silver hair and large blue eyes, that seemed to somehow see both too much and too little. For the second time that day, Harry felt as if this man could read his every thought, and wondered if magic could do that.

"Yep, were 'ere ta get Harry 'is wand." Hagrid said brightly, patting Harry's shoulder and, again for the second time today, nearly sending Harry to ground in his enthusiasm.

Ollivander turned his strange eyes from Harry and looked up at Hagrid. "Rubeus Hagrid, Oak 16 inches, bendy. Though I suppose they snapped it on your expulsion?" Ollivander asked.

Hagrid nodded sadly. "I still keep the pieces though." He said patting his coat where Harry knew his pink umbrella was hidden.

"You don't use them though, of course?" Ollivander said sternly, eyeing the coat with suspicion.

"Ah-No-no-o'course not!" Hagrid blustered, waving his hands.

Ollivander hummed, before letting it go, and turned back to Harry.

"I remember your mother and father buying their first wands. Your mother's was Willow 10 and a quarter inch, swishy, good for charms. And father favored Mahogany 11 inches, pliable, excellent for transfiguration. Well I say he favored it, but really it's the wand that chooses the wizard." He said, coming to stand right in front of Harry, lifting his hand to brush Harry's bangs away from his forehead, nearly touching his scar. "And that's where…I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did that, if I had known…Well." Finally he turned back to his counter, leaving Harry to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Now, which is your wand hand?" Ollivander asked, pointing his own wand at a tape measure on the counter causing it to float towards Harry and begin taking measurements of anything it could reach.

Harry said hesitantly, "Um, my right, maybe. But I use my left fairly well too." By necessity mostly, as Dudley was anything but careful of where he hit, and a sprained wrist was not an excuse to slack on his chores.

Ollivander nodded distractedly as he wound through the tall shelves full of boxes containing what Harry supposed were wands, and started chattering about the different cores he used for his wands and why.

Finally, he returned and handed Harry a wand from one of the boxes he retrieved. Harry went to take it from the man, but had barely wrapped his fingers around it before it was snatched right back.

"No, not that one, I think." Ollivander said.

This set the tone for the next half hour as Ollivander handed Harry wand after wand, sometimes allowing him to hold them for a moment, often with destructive results, and sometimes hardly letting them touch Harry's hand. By this time Harry was starting to become rather discouraged, in direct contrast to Ollivander, who only seemed to grow more excited with each failure.

"Tricky, are you? Very tricky…I wonder…" Ollivander paused in his manic flight through the shop before disappearing around a corner and returning with a wand box held in his hands, almost reverential.

"Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 and ¾ inches, supple." He said opening the box and gesturing for Harry to pick it up. As soon as he touched it he felt a warmth travel through him and a breeze swept the store and brilliant green sparks erupted from the tip like little lightning bolts.

"Excellent. Though…curious, very curious." Ollivander said while he started cleaning up the piles of discarded wands and boxes.

"Curious?" Harry asked looking up from his wand.

Ollivander looked at Harry with his piercing eyes, freezing him in place, "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Young Master. Every wand. As it happens, the same Phoenix who donated the feather in your wand, gave another. Just one. The same wand that gave you that scar. I think we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did terrible things, but there was no denying He was great." He said seriously.

* * *

Harry sat on his bed later that night, stroking the newly named Hedwig and thought back on Ollivander's words about his wand, he finally decided not to worry too much about it. After all, Voldemort was dead, wasn't he, it wasn't like he was going to possess one of his teachers that would be ridiculous.

Little did Harry know that the Potter Hair wasn't the only thing he inherited from James. Because that was exactly the sort of logic that Potter Luck used.

* * *

A/N: Firstly, Thank You everyone who followed or reviewed this, I truly was not expecting such a response, and in such a short amount of time to. It means a lot to me.

Second, a Guest asked about a pairing with Ichigo, I'll be honest, I only have a vague outline of what I want to happen in this and most of it centers around the relationship between Harry and Jushiro, when he finally finds him, which will be at least 5 chapters from now judging by how this one seemed to run away from me. I haven't put much thought into romance, though I'm open to suggestions slash or otherwise, though don't expect it to be the focus for quite a while. Also, I don't write lemons, limes, or any other citrus fruit you might suggest.

Lastly, I'll be assuming a certain level of knowledge about the first five Harry Potter books, as I plan to focus mostly on what's different than things that have been done a million times before.

edit: copy and paste underline doesn't work apparently.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

For Harry, the night before September 1st came both too fast and too slow. He had spent the last month avoiding the Dursleys, who thankfully seemed just as happy to avoid him, while going through the chest his parents had left for him and reading some of his textbooks for school. His school books were interesting, and he was looking forward to class, but most of his time was dedicated to the chest, only turning to school books when he felt that he couldn't deal with anything more without breaking down crying, whether from sheer happiness or heartache that he couldn't learn these things from them in person.

He also spent a lot of time thinking of Jushiro, Otou-san as his Dad called him, and if he could maybe find this Urahara that his Mum had said could help contact him or if that would even be a good idea. Sure Mum had said his Otou-san was an honorable man, willing to take responsibility, but that was over a decade ago. What if he had married and maybe had another child, a legitimate one, and didn't want to deal with a stranger claiming to be his.

He couldn't help hoping that wasn't true, that his – _Otou-san_ \- would welcome him, would _want_ him, if he found out, that he would take care of him just because Harry –because _Jugo_ \- was his son.

Still whether it was or wasn't true was a moot point. As his Mum had said in the letter, they hadn't had much luck finding Urahara and Harry hadn't the slightest clue on how to continue the search. But just in case, and in an attempt to feel closer to the man whose warm presence he could just faintly feel from his locket, he had all but memorized the journal of memories and snuck out to a bookstore to buy a few books on the culture and language of the Japanese. It was interesting so far, even if just the thought of kanji made his head spin, the hiragana being only slightly better, and don't _even_ get him started on katakana.

He lay back on the lumpy mattress of his bed as he thought on all this and waited for sleep to take him, a mix of nervousness and excitement keeping it far from his mind despite his wishes. As exhaustion finally got the best of him, he clutched his locket close and fell asleep to the faint sound of a storm in his mind.

* * *

The next day Uncle Vernon was uncharacteristically helpful when he helped Harry load his trunk on a trolley, though he laughed at the thought of a Platform 9 and ¾. Thankfully Harry found a nice red-headed woman who was willing to show him how to find it and even ended up sitting with one of her sons, Ron Weasley, on the train. Harry thought he was a little insensitive, asking about his scar like he did, but was too grateful to be speaking friendly with someone alive that he ignored it. Harry even defended him from Draco Malfoy, who he remembered seeing briefly at Diagon Alley and thinking that the blond boy whining to his father about a broom seemed much like his Cousin Dudley. His second impression isn't any better than the first.

He also briefly met Hermione Granger, whose comment on having memorized their textbooks in preparation left him somewhat nervous about class, seeing as he had only skimmed his books. He comforted himself with the knowledge that as they were coming to learn, their teachers surely wouldn't expect them to know everything right away.

Unfortunately he didn't feel nearly so confident about the Sorting Ceremony. Ron was talking about how his brothers told him they'd have to wrestle a troll, Granger was reciting what he thought might be various spells and such under her breath, and Harry was only slightly distracted by the fact that magical ghosts apparently look more like a stereotypical ghost, being colorless, slightly transparent and lacking a death-chain, like normal ghosts. This only managed to distract him from his worry for a moment until Professor McGonagall returned and lead them into the Great Hall.

The first thing Harry noticed were the hundreds of faces staring at them from the four student tables, with the second being not much better as he saw the piercing looks they got from the head table where the Professors were sitting. Lastly, he saw the sky above them. Or rather, as Granger was saying, the ceiling which was enchanted to look like the sky, and he focused his gaze here in order to avoid the many people looking at them.

Professor McGonagall set a rather sorry looking hat on the stool in front of her, causing everyone to focus on that rather than the nervous first years. For a moment Harry wasn't sure what they were waiting for when the hat suddenly moved and started to sing. ' _It wasn't a bad song,_ ' Harry thought, ' _considering its being sung by a hat'_. But he wondered at the logic of wizards that they would make a singing hat, of all things, to sort them.

As the Hat finished its song, Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment and began calling out names. Harry noticed as she went through the list that some, like Malfoy, were sorted within moments, hardly a second had passed before the Hat screamed Slytherin and Harry spared a moment to hope he wasn't sorted there. Others seemed to take longer, like Granger, who looked like she was actually arguing with it, before she was finally sorted to Gryffindor.

Then finally Professor McGonagall called, "Potter, Harry!"

A hush immediately descended over the hall as the students craned their necks to look at him, whispering to each other, ' _Where is he?-Is that-Do you see-Harry Potter!-I thought he'd be taller!-_ '. His hands shook as he walked up to the stool and sat down, the Hat falling over his eyes. A curious sensation in his head before a voice sounded in his thoughts.

"Well, well, what have we here? You'll be a tricky one I see." Said the voice, which he assumed to be the Hat.

' _Ollivander said something similar just before he told me my wand was the Brother of the one that killed my Mum and Dad.'_ Harry couldn't help but think. ' _And it sounded just as ominous then, too.'_

A chuckle in his head, "Well little one, I promise I've no strange revelations to impart to you about your wand, nor anything else. I'm only here to sort you into your proper House. Now let's see what we have. Not a bad mind, quite intelligent even if you've been forced to hide it, but I don't think Ravenclaw is for you. Nor is Hufflepuff I think. No matter how hard working, your loyalty is primarily to yourself. Not a bad thing, particularly given your difficulties at home, and with time you will likely learn to trust others more, but not right now."The Hat shifted a little, giving the impression of settling in for a long think and Harry distantly heard some of the students murmuring to each other.

"That just leaves Gryffindor or Slytherin. You're quite brave when you need to be, a nice sense of justice, but tempered by caution and hard earned survival instincts. Hope balanced by suspicion, natural truthfulness by self preserving cunning, and the need to fit in countered by a fierce ambition to prove yourself. Difficult, very difficult." The Hat said. "Have you a preference perhaps?"

' _I can choose?'_ Harry thought, surprised.

The Hat shifted again and said, "Well not usually, but occasionally there comes a child stuck between Houses and I ask which they prefer. You would do well in either I think, in different ways of course, but just as well." It paused a moment. "Besides, the answer in and of itself is usually the last clue anyways. So, preferences?" It asked.

Harry thought for a moment. He didn't really have a preference one way or the other. _'But,'_ he thought, _'Ron had said that his whole family had been in Gryffindor and I'd really like to stay with my new friend.'_ Not to mention Malfoy was already in Slytherin, and Harry didn't want to think about sharing a dorm with the Dudley-act-alike.

The Hat chuckled again, "Very well then. Better be- **Gryffindor!** " This last word was shouted out loud causing the left most table, decked out in red and gold, to break out in deafening cheers as a pair of red-headed twins chanted, ' _We've got Potter! We've got Potter!'_.

Though intimidated by this, _excessive_ in his opinion, enthusiasm he walked over to the table and sat by the rest of the first years. He waited for the rest of the sorting to continue and welcomed Ron gladly when he was sorted into Gryffindor, just as he'd hoped. After the feast, and the somewhat worrying start of term announcements, ' _The_ _Third Floor Corridor is forbidden to all those who don't want to die!? What could be so dangerous, and WHY would it be in a school!?',_ the prefects had led them to the dorms. Harry lay in his bed and fell asleep with a smile, filled with hope for the opportunities this bright new world offered.

* * *

By the time October came around Harry had learned that, regarding Potions at least, yes, his professor could and _did_ seemingly expect them to know everything he was supposed to be teaching them before he taught it. _Especially_ Harry, their _New Celebrity_ as Professor Snape called him. And though nobody else was as blatant about it as the fearsome Potions Professor, it was clear to Harry that although his other professors, and even his fellow students, did not expect him to know everything, they _did_ seem to expect him to be better than everyone else, apparently just because he was the so called _Boy-Who-Lived._

When Harry had first been mobbed at the Leaky Cauldron, he'd thought- _hoped_ \- that their behavior was just exaggerated, ' _by liquor maybe'_ , that he wasn't _really_ so well known. Even when the first thing Ron asked about was his scar after hearing his name, Harry hoped that it was just that kids would be more aware of him because he was their age. But it was obvious to him now that Harry wasn't just _minor-television-star-famous_ like he'd hoped. To the Magical World Harry might as well be a _Prince_ , for all the attention and expectations they thrust upon him.

And it wasn't even like he was doing badly in class or anything. Like the Hat had said, he was pretty smart when he put his mind to it; he was just used to hiding it. He rather thought that, for someone who had only learned of magic just a little more than two months ago, he was doing good! It was too early for class rankings yet, but he was confident that he'd be in the top ten when they came out. It was just that apparently _pretty smart_ and _top ten_ wasn't enough when everyone seemed to expect him to be the genius that got the top spot without even trying.

Still, disregarding the unrealistic expectations of professors and students alike, as well as the near constant staring and whispering that happened whenever he passed by, he was enjoying Hogwarts. As long as he ignored the nearly imperceptibly disappointed looks he got if he asked for help or didn't get something right the first time, something he had great practice doing thanks to the Dursleys, he was able to enjoy his classes. And he had become rather good friends with Ron; since it seemed that the only people who had the courage to approach him were his rabid fans- _never did he think that phrase could ever be applied to him-_ who he avoided with all his considerable skill gathered from Harry Hunting. ' _Which,'_ he mused, ' _rather fit the circumstances disturbingly well. After all, a rose by any other name is still a rose. That the people Hunting me this time are, for the most part, not attempting to harm me hardly matters. It's still Hunting.'_

And anyway, there was little that could dampen his mood today. Today, three days into October, they would finally be having Flying lessons. He was nervous too, of course, how could he not be? But ever since Hagrid had told him that they would be learning to _fly_ Harry's head had been filled with dreams of what it would be like to soar through the clouds, higher and higher, 'til he touched the sky and then higher still, faster than the wind. Even the rather sorry state of the brooms they were to learn on barely dampened his excitement.

He held his hand over the broom and, as instructed, said firmly, " _Up!_ ", and was relieved when it immediately obeyed. As he looked around though, he could see that his was one of the only ones to do so. Even some of those who had been bragging the last week since lessons had been announced, like Ron and Malfoy, were having a little trouble. Poor Neville Longbottom was one of the worst, his broom hardly even moving. Though Harry thought it might have something to do with the fact that Neville seemed positively terrified of the very thought of his feet leaving the ground.

This fear was proven a valid one when just moments later, as Madam Hooch started to teach them to hover, Neville's broom shot straight up before flying wildly, obviously not under Neville's control, ending with him crashing to the ground. Thankfully he wasn't too badly hurt, only a broken wrist. Harry knew from an unfortunate experience with the moving staircases, ' _Who would make such a thing anyway!?'_ , that Madam Pomfrey could fix in that in minutes.

It was unfortunate that Malfoy took advantage of Hooch's absence as she escorted Neville to the healing wing. It was more unfortunate that McGonagall caught him as he dove after Neville's Remembrall after Hooch explicitly told them to stay on the ground and even more unfortunate than that, was that Malfoy had managed to land before him after throwing it in the first place, thus escaping punishment.

So now Harry was here, following behind McGonagall, visions of terrible things like expulsion and being forced to return to the Dursleys, while his professor said not a word. They finally arrived at what he thought might be one of the upper level Charms classrooms where McGonagall stuck her head in and asked for Wood. For a brief- _terrifying-_ moment Harry wondered if Hogwarts had corporal punishment, the Magical World seemed stuck somewhere in the 1700s after all, and it was only recently that they outlawed it in public schools, ' _is Hogwarts public or private I wonder, I haven't heard of anyone being caned in detention, usually it's about lines or cleaning chores, but what if-'_ His thoughts were cut off before he could work himself up to real panic by a tall brown haired boy, about 15 years old exiting the classroom.

"Wood, I've found you a Seeker!" Professor McGonagall said excitedly.

' _Or,_ _she could do none of that, and just make me Seeker instead…That makes perfect sense.'_ He thought, as she spoke to Wood about schedules, very relieved, but also slightly incredulous, _'Not that I'm complaining.'_

A week later, after his first practice, Harry thought maybe McGonagall had known what she was doing after all. He hadn't even known it was possible to be so sore and still be capable of sitting upright, let alone get up and go to class the next day. The Dursleys' chore list had _nothing_ on the things Oliver expected him to do. At least he had finally found something that he truly excelled at, he had never felt more at home than when he was in the air.

* * *

A month later Halloween came around and he was marginally acclimated to waking at 5 am three mornings a week for 2 hour practices plus one 5 hour one Saturday afternoons. He was still sore for hours afterwards, but it was not so bad that all he wanted was to fall into bed and never wake up. Ron was by turns, laughingly sympathetic and misguidedly jealous. Harry had told him, ' _If you want to take my place, by all means, take it. Please.-Ah, No thanks Harry, I like having at least 7 hours sleep on regular basis. Besides, I play Keeper not Seeker.-Jerk.-At least I'm a well rested jerk.'_

There was one perk to being so exhausted so often thought. As Halloween grew closer and closer and people began to get more excited about the Halloween Feast, Harry had a ready-made excuse to be unsocial. He tried not to hold it against them, but ever since he had learned the truth of his Mum and Dad's death he didn't really feel like celebrating. In fact he would much rather be holed up in his bed, curtains closed, holding his locket close and maybe reading one of his parents' journals for the tenth time. However, Ron was excited and hadn't understood why he would want to stay in the dorm when there would be so much candy at the feast and Harry didn't feel like explaining.

So, there he was, idly picking at his food and nodding distractedly to Ron whenever he stopped stuffing his face long enough to attempt speech. He briefly frowned when he heard Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil saying that Hermione had refused to leave the girl's bathroom after Charms that afternoon. He remembered Ron being frustrated and saying something rude to her after class, but she had run away before Harry could do anything about it. He hoped she was alright.

Just as he thought to maybe leave to- _escape all these people and their happiness for the day of his parents' death-_ go check on her, Professor Quirrell burst through the doors in a panic and yelled out, " _Troll!_ In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know…" and dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

The panic that immediately erupted was handily stopped by Headmaster Dumbledore who ordered the prefects to escort the students to their common rooms while the teachers searched for the troll. However, just as the Gryffindors were passing the corridor that lead to the Charms classrooms Harry remembered Hermione. Hermione, who hadn't been at the Feast because Harry's idiot best friend couldn't keep his mouth shut. Hermione, who had been locked up in the girl's bathroom all day. Hermione, who didn't know about the troll and who everyone seemed to have forgotten in the rush to get back to the common rooms.

It took some convincing to get Ron to come, ' _It's your fault in the first place! What if she gets hurt? What then, huh!?-Fine! I'll come, but if we get eaten by the troll, I'm blaming you!'_ but he agreed eventually _, 'Don't worry, it's supposed to be in the dungeons. It's nowhere near us!'_ Looking back, Harry would one day think that this was the first time he had experienced Potter's Luck in all its glory. Not only was the troll _not_ in the dungeons, it was in the very same bathroom that the girl they came to warn was in, and they somehow managed to not only _survive_ but to actually _knock it out_ when it attempted to squash them with its giant club.

On the bright side, Harry made a new friend. Hermione was very grateful for their help and nothing helps people overcome their differences quite like mortal peril. Of course, he would later learn that nothing _reveals_ differences quite as well either, but that's for the future.

* * *

The day of Harry's first Quidditch match dawned bright and clear, hardly a cloud in the sky, and despite his nerves he was looking forward to flying. Ron and Hermione had been trying to be supportive at breakfast that morning, pushing him to eat more, but as he sat in the Gryffindor changing rooms waiting for Oliver finish his speech and lead them on to the pitch, all he wanted was for the wait to be over. He knew that as soon as he was in the air his nerves would disappear with the wind in his hair. It was the anticipation that was getting to him.

Finally, _finally,_ they were walking out to the pitch, Hooch said a few words, ' _A nice, clean, game, gentlemen!' _and at last he was flying and the only thing he had to think about was the hunt. _'And,'_ he amended, ' _dodging the bludgers.'_

"Alright there Harry?" asked one of the Weasley twins as he hit the bludger that had been aimed to take his head off back towards the Slytherin team.

Harry spared him a quick smile, "Just fine, thanks!" he called out before returning to his hunt of the Snitch.

He had just spotted it for the second time after a short but brutal race against the Slytherin Seeker had caused them both to lose sight of it, when he felt a heart stopping jerk in his broom. It was as if someone had taken it and given it the personality of a wild mustang. In moments he was bucked off and clinging desperately with one hand as he tried to reach back up and regain some control. Fred and George noticed him first and abandoned the game to circle below him in hopes of catching him if he fell, as every time they came too close the broom would go higher.

This continued for a few minutes, Harry clinging for his life and his broom doing its level best to rid him of it with Fred and George circling below, before just as suddenly it started, it stopped. Harry hung there a moment and made sure it wasn't a bluff, and then swung back up on to his broom and immediately went into a dive, chasing the Snitch that miraculously hadn't moved much while he was distracted. As though it read his mind and wished to make up for lost time, it shot off like a rocket leading him on a merry chase all up and down the pitch, through the bleachers, the players, and the score posts before he finally managed to catch it, though in an admittedly unorthodox way. Still, he caught it and Gryffindor won. That was all that mattered, right?

Wrong. Apparently his broom had been _jinxed_ during the match, not just malfunctioning, and Hermione had seen Snape muttering under his breath while staring at him as he hung from his broom. Harry had suddenly regained control when she set fire to Snape's robes, thus breaking eye contact. Hagrid, when she mentioned her theory to him over tea, said that was ridiculous as Snape was one of the ones Professor Dumbledore had trusted to guard the Third Floor Corridor along with Hagrid's three-headed dog Fluffy, whom they had met during an unfortunate after curfew adventure involving Malfoy's lies, when they accidentally wandered into the room he was held in while running from Filch. Hagrid clammed up tight after that, ' _I shouldn'ta said tha', should not have said tha'.'_ Before stating firmly that it was none of their business, it was strictly between Headmaster Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel and sent them back to the castle.

Though Harry was curious, he was mostly of a mind to leave it at that. Hermione on the other hand, was not content with that at all and was determined to figure out who Nicolas Flamel was and why he would need something protected at Hogwarts. Ron was on the fence, attracted by the sense of adventure but unwilling to go digging in the library for hours on end.

* * *

By the time winter rolled around, and with it Christmas Holidays, they, or more precisely Hermione, hadn't found anything about Nicolas Flamel. Not that he or Ron were looking very hard, mind. However they did agree to keep searching during the holidays as Hermione would be returning home to her parents. Harry rather thought they'd forget before the week was out, but didn't say as much.

He was right too, as by the time Christmas Eve came and they settled down to sleep they had spent their days doing nothing more than snowball fights, that nearly always somehow erupted into a war between the remaining houses, playing chess, and for Harry, flying when it wasn't snowing to hard.

Harry woke Christmas morning clutching his locket, as he often did, with no expectations of anything more than maybe spending some time with Ron before he left him and his brothers to some family time to go out flying. So what he saw at the end of his bed shocked him. A stack of presents, 5 or 6 of them, sitting on top of his trunk. Ron looked over from where he was already starting on the candy he received.

"I think the red one is from Mum, I mentioned that you didn't expect anything from your relatives and she insisted of sending something. It's probably a sweater." He said, sounding a little embarrassed.

Sure enough, Harry opened the box to see an emerald green sweater with a gold H on the front. It was a thick material, soft and warm, and Harry couldn't stop staring at it.

Ron cleared his throat, "You don't have to wear it if you don't-"

Harry immediately pulled it over his sleep shirt. It was a little big on him; the sleeves went to his second knuckles, but it was just as soft and warm as it looked. He looked up at Ron.

"I love it. Thanks, and thank your Mum for me too." He said.

Ron grumbled a bit and said roughly, "It was Mum's idea. You're welcome. Now back to presents, you've got more you know."

Harry smiled and turned back to his presents. There was one from Hermione, a book of course, a joint one from the Gryffindor Quidditch team containing his own pair of Seeker's gauntlets, and several sweets from some of his classmates. Lastly was a strange lumpy gift wrapped with brown packaging paper that opened to reveal a silvery cloak that almost seemed to flow like water. There was a note with it that said, ' _Your Father left this with me before he died. Use it well._ '

Ron looked over again from his own newly opened sweater, maroon with a gold R, and exclaimed, "Is that an Invisibility Cloak!? Those are really rare, I heard! Who gave you that?"

"I don't know, there's a note here, but whoever it was didn't sign it." Harry said, examining the note more closely in search of any clues.

"Well, go on then, try it on!" Ron said excitedly.

Harry stood and threw the Cloak over his shoulders. Strangely enough it seemed to fit him exactly right and fell over him in such a way that it covered him completely. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was his head and even that disappeared when he drew the hood up.

" _Wicked!_ "

Sadly they hadn't any more time to play around with it as breakfast would be starting soon. And even if they had wanted to afterwards, they were caught in another Snow War, this time started by the Ravenclaws strangely enough, and that kept them busy until the Feast. After that all they wanted to do was fall in to bed.

However try as he might, as Harry lay tossing and turning in his bed he couldn't seem to get the Cloak out of his mind. He finally decided to throw caution to the wind and take a midnight stroll. As he walked the halls he contemplated how much quieter it was with most of the school home for the holidays. It was even more so at night. The moon was high and bright through the windows, casting deep shadows that seemed to muffle everything and caused a strange sort of peace to envelope him.

He saw something glint through an open door he passed and paused looking inside curiously. At the back of what must be an old unused class room, silver moonlight reflecting of it, was a large mirror. It was a huge thing, 7ft tall at least, with a strange inscription at the top that he didn't look to closely at. No, what caught his attention, as he desperately gripped his locket through his shirt, was what was shown in the mirror.

There in his refection was himself as he truly was, nearly the spitting image of his Otou-san save his pitch black hair and slightly lighter green eyes, but he wasn't alone. Just to his left stood his mother, hair shining like fire with a smile just as bright and behind her, arms around her waist, was his Dad, with a mischievous grin, the Potter Hair sticking up every which way just like his. On Harry's right was Otou-san, looking radiant with health, green eyes shining with happiness and- _pride-_ as he stood with his hand on Harry's shoulder- _a claim, that this was his son-_, and then in the background were many indistinct figures from whom he could nevertheless pick out features that were shared. Bright eyes, wild hair, long limbs and strong shoulders, all of them had something. _Family._

He didn't get back to bed until the early hours of the morning and returned again that night after Ron went to bed. He was finally caught three days, well nights really, later. By the Headmaster no less. Thankfully Headmaster Dumbledore was very understanding and after explaining the mirror's purpose and asking him not to seek it out again sent back to his dorm.

* * *

Thankfully term started up again soon after that, and between classes, Quidditch practice, and _extra-curricular research_ , he didn't have much time to dwell on what he saw in the mirror. Especially since Hermione had finally found out who Nicolas Flamel was and what he had that someone- _Snape_ \- wanted to steal. The Philosopher's Stone, a Magical stone that could turn lead to gold and produced the Elixir of Life which would, supposedly, grant eternal youth. Harry thought that was probably ample enough reason for someone to think about it.

However, another distraction came not long after that. As spring started, Harry and his friends discovered Hagrid had somehow gotten hold of a Dragon egg. He said he won it off a man at a pub. This started a series of unfortunate events including a trip to the healing wing, a smug Draco Malfoy, a letter to Ron's brother Charlie, and a midnight smuggling mission, that ultimately ended up with all them, Malfoy included this time, being caught and assigned detention.

But not just any detention. They were to be going into the _Forbidden Forest_. _After curfew_. _Apparently_ to search for a _Unicorn killer_. Really, Harry wondered at the logic in that.

So, there he was, following a trail of silvery blood, Hagrid's normal- _ish_ \- dog Fang at his left and stuck with Malfoy on his right because he couldn't behave himself around poor Neville, who had somehow gotten caught up in this. They had been walking –mostly- in silence for maybe twenty minutes when they came upon a clearing with the most heart breaking scene. A Unicorn lay there in the middle, nearly dead, bleeding liquid silver from a gaping wound on its neck.

Just as Harry was about to raise his wand to alert Hagrid, a burning, fiery pain erupted in his head as if it was about to split in two, driving his breath from his lungs and his knees to the ground. Distantly he heard Malfoy scream before running away, Fang hot on his heels. As he looked up he could see a shadow descend on the Unicorn, lowering what might be its head to the wound on the Unicorn's neck. A nauseating slurping sound came from the creature as it began to drink the Unicorn's blood, accompanied by a last weak neigh as it finally gave up the fight and died.

Harry must have made some sort of noise, despite his efforts to be silent, because the creature suddenly looked up at him, red eyes glowing from the depths of its cloak, and the pain in his head increased three-fold. As the creature started to stalk closer, Harry marshaled all his will and attempted to get to his feet and run away, far away. He was able to stumble about ten feet before his legs gave out again sending him crashing to the ground.

Suddenly, just as Harry was resigning himself to being killed by this creature, he felt more than heard hoof-beats on the forest floor. A huge shadow passed over him as something drove the Unicorn killer away, striking out with strong hooves, even as a very human sounding voice cried out, " _Away! Away foul creature!_ " A centaur, Harry realized as the pain finally faded enough that he could focus on his surroundings.

As the shadow creature finally retreated, the centaur turned and looked down at him and said, "It is not safe for you in this Forest, Son of Pisces. You must return to your school."

Without so much as a by-your-leave, the centaur picked him up, swung him up onto his back and took off in what Harry assumed to be the direction to Hogwarts. Harry reflexively wrapped his arms around the centaur's waist and for a while it was all Harry could do to keep from falling off as the last of his headache faded. When he finally got his bearings again, he spoke up.

"What _was_ that!? Who are you? And what do you mean ' _Son of Pisces'_? I'm a Leo." He asked, still unsteady from his recent brush with death.

The centaur didn't look back or even pause his stride, but he answered, "My name is Firenze, little foal, and I call you Son of Pisces because your father's soul is of the Twin Fish, though I read in the stars that his birth was under the last hours of Sagittarius, the fore-father of my people." He paused here for a moment, and then continued, "As for what that creature was, do you know what Unicorn blood is used for?"

Taken aback by the question, it Harry took a second to reply, "No, I've heard some of the upper years need the hair and horn for Potions, but never blood."

Firenze nodded, "Because it is a Monstrous crime, to slay something so Pure as a Unicorn. To drink a Unicorn's blood, unwillingly taken in such a way, is to invite ruin upon oneself. For the moment it touches your lips, though it will keep you alive even on the very edge of death, you will forever after live a half-life, a cursed one. Only the most desperate would dare such a thing."

Harry shuddered, the thought of someone really being willing to do that, to kill a Unicorn just to save their own life, knowing the consequences. He couldn't imagine who would dare, and said as much to Firenze.

"Can you not? If all they needed was to stay alive long _enough_ , tell me young one, do you know what is hidden in your school at this very moment?" He responded.

Harry gasped, "The Philosopher's Stone! But who-?"

"Is there no one you can think of, who would be so desperate? Who has clung to this world for so long as to be willing to slay a Unicorn for its blood in order to live long enough to grasp his way back to life? Did not your scar _burn_ in his mere presence?" the centaur asked solemnly.

A sudden chill swept through Harry's body. ' _Surely not! They said I killed him! They said-"They say he's dead. Codswallop, I say. Dumbledore says he's still out there, waitin' fer his chance. An' Dumbledore knows what he's talkin' about."-'_ Harry gulped.

"Y-you're talking about- _Him_ -about _Voldemort_." He said shakily, the very thought seeming to stop his heart in his chest as fear shook him to the core.

Firenze finally stopped for a moment, looking back at him, and nodded grimly. Harry sucked in a breath, unknowingly tightening his arms around the centaur's waist as he turned back and continued on toward the school which Harry could just see through the trees. They traveled in silence, Harry trying to come to terms with the knowledge that his parents' murderer might still be alive, and Firenze seemed content to leave him to his thoughts.

Later that night, after Firenze returned him to Hagrid and reported the Unicorn's fate, Harry lay in his bed restlessly. He was unable to rid the thought of Voldemort from his mind, causing sleep to evade him. When he finally succumbed to exhaustion in the early hours of the morning, for the first time since he got his locket, he dreamed of sickly green light, a desperate scream, and cold, high laughter.

* * *

Once again, due to Quidditch practice, classes, and an ever increasing load of homework, Harry thankfully didn't have much time to think on that night in the Forest. And with exams just around the corner, he didn't have any time at all as Hermione worked herself into a panic and turned into a vicious revision task-master. Harry wasn't sure why _she_ was worried, she was in the top three for all her subjects. Besides, he felt that this close to the exams, if they didn't know it by now, trying to stuff their heads with revision wouldn't help.

Of course he wasn't stupid enough to say as much. Ron had made the mistake of complaining early on and had promptly been given an hour long lecture on the importance of diligence towards their education. He did _not_ want a repeat.

Thankfully she calmed down some when exams were done, and Harry and Ron even managed to drag her down to the lake after the last one was finally finished. _And_ with only minimal fretting about if she should have added this or that fact to this or that answer. Now Harry only had to worry about one fanatic, as their last Quidditch match of the year with Slytherin was to be held in two days. Oliver was, needless to say, frantic.

However, with no schoolwork, Quidditch a distant thought until tomorrow's last minute practice, and the Forest so close, his thoughts inevitably returned to Firenze, and his warning about Voldemort. And maybe it was the distance of time from the heart stopping fear of that night, but he found himself wondering if Firenze had been right. If Voldemort really was alive and after the stone.

Ron and Hermione, when he had filled them in on what had happened in the Forest and what Firenze had said to him, minus the part about his Father as he wasn't quite ready to share that with them yet, they wondered if maybe Snape's attempt to kill him during his first Quidditch match had been on Voldemort's orders. And if that was true he could be trying to get the Stone for him too. This had worried them at the time, as Snape was supposedly one of the teachers in on the protection of the Stone in the first place. But as Harry had remembered briefly seeing what looked like a large bite wound on Snape's leg the morning after Halloween as he passed by the healing wing, they decided that he must have attempted to get passed Fluffy and as long as he didn't know how to, the Stone was safe.

' _Hm?'_ Harry paused at that thought suddenly, something about it niggling at his mind. ' _Hagrid said nobody knew except him and Dumbledore. Well, and us, I suppose, but why does that feel wrong now? Hmm.'_ Harry frowned in thought, nodding distractedly to Ron who he was only half listening to talk about his latest letter from one of his brothers.

"Charlie says that Norbert was actually a Norberta, but other than that they've had no problems with her. Though he asked if we could convince Hagrid to tell them how he found it, I told him, Hagrid said he won it at a pub, but they don't believe-Harry?" Ron stopped as Harry suddenly shot up from where he was lying in the grass.

" _Hagrid!_ He said he got a _Dragon egg_ from a man at a pub!" Harry exclaimed, the pieces of his mental puzzle coming together with a near audible click.

Ron and Hermione looked at him confused, "Yeah? That's…just what I said mate. You were there too, don't you remember?"

"Don't you _see!?_ Who would take a _Dragon egg_ to some random pub!? Unless they had a reason! Remember Hagrid said the man wanted to know that he could care for a dragon properly! He asked what other creatures Hagrid had cared for, that's how we learned about Fluffy's weakness!" Harry explained swiftly, fear already stirring slowly in his mind.

Hermione gasped in horrified recognition, "You think the man Hagrid met was You-Know-Who!?"

Harry nodded grimly, "Or at least someone who worked for him. We have to tell the Headmaster. He'll need to know that someone tricked Hagrid into giving away Fluffy's secret." So saying he got up and started for the castle, Ron and Hermione close behind.

Unfortunately it seemed Headmaster Dumbledore was away on Ministry business, and Professor McGonagall didn't believe them when they attempted to warn her, ' _Adults, always so sure that kids are idiots. Useless! All of them!'._ Harry crushed the thought quickly, but it didn't change the fact that due to McGonagall's disbelief, and the certainty that there was no one else, he had somehow been convinced that it would be a good idea to go after the Stone themselves. Which has somehow- _Potter's Luck-_ in turn led him to this.

" _Sssee what I have become? Reduccced to a mere wraithhh. But you could help me Hharry, wouldn't you like to sssee them again? I could give you your parentsss back! All I need isss that Ssstone in your pocket."_ Said the wraith of Voldemort from the back of Quirrell's head, his voice high and cold. The voice from his nightmares.

Yes, not Snape. _Quirrell_ , poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell, who was scared of his own shadow. Except _not_ apparently. If Harry could focus more past the pain in his scar from Voldemort's presence, and the strange buzzing in his ears that sounded like wind, he thought he might be more surprised. As it was, all he _could_ focus on was Voldemort, which is why he immediately turned to run after Voldemort said he knew Harry had the Stone.

Sadly, pain and shorter legs prevented him from getting away before Quirrell tackled him to the ground. They wrestled for a moment, Harry using every trick he ever learned from Harry Hunting and the Dursleys in attempting to get away and Quirrell using his all greater strength and reach to prevent it. Finally Quirrell seemed to have enough and wrapped his hands around Harry's neck. The pain in Harry's scar increased exponentially for just a second, before Quirrell ripped away from him with a cry of pain.

"It burns, Master! It _burns_!" He cried, backing away from Harry who lay on the ground recovering his breath.

The wind seemed to be howling in his ears now as Harry looked up at Quirrell to see his hands were, as he said, severely burned. His vision tunneled. His thoughts slowed. All he could think, ' _I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die! I will not die!' _With this last thought his sole focus, the wind now seeming like a hurricane, Harry pushed himself forward, jumped, wrapped his own hands around Quirrell's neck and held on. He held on through the now blinding pain in his scar and Quirrell's frantic attempts to shove him off. Even as the man began to smoke slightly and his screams became shrill, mixing with Voldemort's and echoing in Harry's head, almost drowning out the hurricane. Harry didn't let go until Quirrell turned to ash before him.

He briefly saw a shadow rising from the ashes before his own pain and exhaustion sent him tumbling into unconsciousness, the wind in his ears finally ceasing.

* * *

He woke in the healing wing of course. He was very familiar with it from various Quidditch injuries and the occasional accident in class, usually potions, ironically. It seemed Hermione had been successful in finding help, though too late for him ' _Here comes the cavalry, late as usual.'_ Headmaster Dumbledore was there when he woke and was kind enough to explain what happened after he passed out. He was not kind enough however to explain why Voldemort had been so fixated on him.

There was also nothing said about his having essentially killed, even if in self-defense, his Defense Professor, but he was suppressing that, ' _Don't think about it!'_ and so didn't think on it further.

He would much rather focus on the fact that, since he'd been asleep for three days, he missed the last game of the year, leaving Oliver to have to find a last minute stand-in Seeker. However, that stand-in was apparently pretty terrible, as Ron informed him that Slytherin slaughtered them. He assured Harry that nobody blamed him, not really at least, but Harry still felt guilty. He promised Oliver when he visited that he would make up for it next year.

Though he was still a little tired, he managed to convince Madam Pomfrey to release him in time for the Leaving Feast. He met Ron and Hermione outside the healing wing and walked with them to the Great Hall, relishing his freedom, and more importantly, the distraction his friends provided him from his thoughts. He hadn't told them just what had happened after he left Hermione, but thankfully they seemed to accept that and never said anything about it.

The Feast was great, the food excellent as always, and Harry was thoroughly distracted. Of course this changed when while awarding the House Cup, Headmaster Dumbledore began awarding Gryffindor points, and consequently the Cup, for their actions that night, ' _Ronald Weasley, 50 points…Hermione Granger 50 points…And Harry Potter, 50 points, for great courage in the face of great danger.'-'Courage, hah! Is that what they call it? I thought it was murder.'_ Harry thought before ruthlessly crushing it. ' _Really the only one who deserves this is Neville.'_

Still he was happy for his friends- _if he wasn't he felt he'd break down-_ so he smiled and laughed and pretended that everything was okay, ' _It was!'_ and if he went to bed a little earlier than them, they were kind enough to except his excuse of lingering fatigue. When he got up in the morning he pretended that he didn't dream of fire in his hands and screams in his ears as he got ready for the day and did some last minute packing before following Ron down to breakfast to meet Hermione. After breakfast they walked down to the carriages. Harry was briefly surprised by the strange emaciated, winged horses that pulled them, but too exhausted to say anything about them, especially since no one else seemed to pay them any mind.

The train ride was peaceful enough. Ron and Hermione were happy to talk about their summer plans and didn't say anything when he didn't reciprocate beyond, ' _Chores, probably. They wouldn't take me even if they did plan to do anything.'_ After they pulled into the station he said good bye to Ron just before he was swallowed by a mass of red-heads and followed Hermione to the muggle half of the station to look for his relatives. Not a minute passed before he saw them, they were very distinctive, and he regrettably had to say good bye quickly, promising to write, before they thought he was keeping them on purpose.

Thankfully it seemed the trend of ignoring him set before he left was holding now, as his Uncle merely grunted and lead him to the car. As Harry looked out the window on the way back to Privet Drive, despite all that had happened that year, he wished desperately that the Headmaster had let him stay at Hogwarts, so-called Blood Wards or no. He gripped his locket through his shirt and hoped for summer to be over quickly.

* * *

A/N: So that's First year done! I'm going to be trying for one year per chapter until I get to Bleach stuff, but I don't know if it'll work out that way. It seems the more I write the more I want to add. Anyway, Thanks to everyone who followed and reviewed, It makes me happy that you all seem to enjoy it so far.

By the way, the new cover I'm posting with this chapter is my own drawing, Jugo is supposed to be about 15-16ish in it, and I'll not be telling you how his hair turned white, you'll have to wait.;)

Also a reminder for those asked for a pairing, that's quite a ways away yet. You're welcome to suggest, just don't get mad when Harry doesn't immediately fall for someone as soon as he turns 16 or something. Also I should mention, If he's paired with someone, it won't be another Harry Potter character. The bulk of this story is supposed to be in Bleach after all. Besides I'm liking the suggestion of Byakuya/Jugo, or maybe Nemu would be interesting. Hinamori was suggested, but I don't know much about her except she was crazy-literally-for Aizen.


End file.
